


I think I (don’t) love you.

by littlegreenfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Domestic, Emotional Constipation, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:57:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlegreenfish/pseuds/littlegreenfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things in Storybrooke have finally settled down, and Regina and Emma realize that after everything they’ve been through, they’ve become friends. The problems start when Emma realizes that they could be more than friends. By the time Regina agrees, it’s too late. Basically, Emma and Regina have enough time to take on the world—if they could just get the timing right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For SQBB! :-) I wish I could have made this longer, but I've been having problems with writer's block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SQBB! Would have been longer, but I had writer's block. :-(
> 
> Anyway, so there are two endings for this fic----both are just variations on the last few sentences. Keep that in mind when you click "next chapter" so that you don't get confused!

**Ch. 1**

 

It’s 9:30 am.

 

She doesn’t know it, but just before noon, things are going to change.

 

Regina is expecting Emma at 10, and already has everything set up in the kitchen so that when the blonde walks in, brunch will be hot and ready. The other woman isn’t suppose to knock on her door for another half an hour, but Regina can’t bring herself to be surprised when the doorbell rings. Emma has never been all that fond of tradition, or punctuality.

 

“I wasn’t expecting you so early.” She says instead, a smile flying to her face before she can stop it. Emma Swan is at her door, a bag clutched in her hand that’s probably full of donuts and bearclaws and other things that absolutely are _not_ part of a balanced breakfast, despite what cereal commercials might claim.

 

“Sorry?” Emma offers a goofy smile, and Regina purses her lips.

 

“I suppose I should let you come in—but the coffee’s not done yet.” Regina steps aside so that the sheriff can enter, and as Regina closes the door she hears Henry come stampeding down from his room

 

Three years ago he sounded like cattle, now it sounds like a herd of elephants as he runs down the stairs.

 

“Be careful, Henry!” She calls out automatically, closing the door. “If you break something coming down the stairs, I swear I’ll call the repairman before I call 911!”

 

It’s a lie, but she can hear Henry laughing, so it’s worth it. Emma laughs, too.

 

“Come on you two. I’m making eggs.” Regina ushers Emma and their son into the kitchen, and they both settle down in stools at the island in the center of the room.

 

It’s been like this every Sunday for over a year. Brunch with Emma and Henry.

 

 Her boy is a teenager now, which is terrifying. Sometimes she finds herself looking online for answers to questions that Emma laughs at when she borrows Regina’s computer after brunch to check the weather.

 

How to tell a teenager what to do without making him hate you.

 

How to ask a teenager to clean his room.

 

How to talk to your teenager.

 

What is emoticon.

 

Regina doesn’t let Emma use her computer anymore unless she’s cleared the history first. She’d looked up how to do that, too, but had ended up asking Henry to show her how when google’s answers proved to be too much for her. He hadn’t minded, of course—he was a good son, even if he _was_ a teenager.

 

Things were normal. Things were good.

 

Somehow, for over a year, nothing in Storybrooke had gone horribly terrible wrong. Ever since Emma and Killian’s trip back in time, and reconciling Elsa the ice queen and her sister, Storybrooke had settled into relative peace and quiet.

 

At first, it hadn’t felt right. They had all held their breath and walked on their toes, waiting for something to go wrong. Eventually, things had—for the first time, really—become comfortable on a day-to-day basis for _everyone_ in Storybrooke, not just the citizens furthest removed from Regina and the Charmings.

 

There was some discontent among the people, of course. David wanted desperately to get back to the Enchanted Forest, but although there was now magic in town, no one could find enough of it to bring everyone back home.

 

Or was the little town in Maine home, now?

 

In any case, no one was willing to crush the heart of the one they held most dear to enact a curse to bring them all back. Why would they, when everyone was more or less as happy as they’d ever been?

 

Besides, Maine had indoor plumbing and electricity. It wasn’t so bad.

 

It also had Emma Swan, and with the Enchanted Forest nowhere in sight, whether or not the savior would go with them given a choice was a question that never had to be asked. Regina doubted that Snow and her husband had much time to ponder that, anyway. They were too busy with their new baby.

 

He was growing like a weed. It made her think of when Henry had been that small, which made her both very happy and very sad. The first time that Snow had let her babysit, she’d cried after the door was closed, and sang Neal all of the songs that she’d stopped singing to Henry when he decided that he should be the one reading stories at bedtime.

 

All of it is so domestic and so strange that sometimes Regina finds herself caught off guard, because never in a million years could she ever have predicted any of this. At the same time, Neal and grocery shopping and the internet were all distractions from the one single thing that most alarming to Regina Mills in Storybrooke’s newfound era of peace.

 

Emma Swan.

 

With no danger and no adventure (besides when Charming had let Henry drive again, which had been a complete disaster) it was harder and harder to hate Emma Swan at all. She’d always hated her a little, even at their best.

 

Now, they were both taking care of Henry, and he loved the both of them. Any competing that they did for his affection was completely within the bounds of any parents (and, after all that they’d been through together, Regina had to admit that they were _both_ his parents and always would be) and their mutual love for him made a friendship with the savior more than bearable.

 

Henry was staying in Regina’s house, because Emma’s apartment was small and messy and Regina’s house was closer to the school. Henry didn’t mind, because now that his parents weren’t literally at war with one another there was nothing keeping him from seeing Emma.

 

Besides, he said that he’d missed his room.

 

Now, Emma is swinging by for dinner a few nights a week so that between Regina and Snow’s cooking, she’s only having takeout twice a week. Those days usually come as a surprise. A text. A plan made so far in advance that at least one of them forgets about it. Sometimes she just shows up with Henry after school.

 

Sunday brunches are non-negotiable. Regina has been reading a lot of parenting books about teenagers and talking to Dr. Hopper twice a month, and has decided that at least one structured meal a week with _both_ of his mothers is essential as Henry continues to grow up.

 

The first few had been a little awkward as Emma grew used to Regina’s health regiment and Regina grew used to Emma’s absolute rejection of orange juice with pulp.

 

Then, Regina learned to makes eggs just the way Emma liked and Emma learned what kind of donut to bring from the bakery. Henry’s smile grew bigger and bigger the more that his mothers got along, and that more than anything made Regina force herself to relax around Ms. Swan.

 

“Henry dear, can you bring your plate over?” Regina asks, gesturing to her so that she can load his plate with eggs and bacon. They’ll eat the donuts later, after they’ve caught up on the events of the week and let their breakfast settle.

 

It takes another few minutes for the eggs to be cooked through enough for Emma, and when they’re done Regina brings the plate over herself and gives the sheriff’s shoulder a small squeeze as she sets it down.

 

Emma beams at her, Regina rolls her eyes, and they all start eating.

 

“So how’s school going, kiddo?” Emma asks, and Henry gives a noncommittal shrug that every boy his age has mastered since the dawn of time.

 

“Fine.” He says, and his voice cracks. Regina takes a quick drink of coffee to swallow a laugh, and it burns her tongue.

 

“You’re not failing anything, right? As long as you’re passing your classes, you’ll be fine.”

 

“As long as you’re _excelling_ in your classes, you’ll be fine. Don’t settle for ordinary, dear.”

 

“You’re right. I should cast a curse on the school so that every teacher will give me an A no matter what. That’ll show ‘em.”

 

They all laugh, and it shows just how far they’ve come.

 

It’s 11:30 and their plates have been clear for a while, and when Henry looks at the clock on the stove his eyes go wide.

 

“I’m gonna be late!” He stands up and rips open Emma’s box of fried dough, looking at the choices for a few seconds before settling on a cinnamon-sugar donut.

 

“Late for what?” Regina asks, because she can’t remember him saying anything about this yesterday.

 

“I’m studying with Grace! She texted me this morning!”

 

Regina and Emma share a glance that is alarmingly mutual, and the formerly-evil mayor’s brow furrows in confusion as the other woman’s face turns red and she abruptly looks away.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get a reputation as someone who can’t keep his appointments. Go on.” Regina says gently, and Henry’s out the door before she can blink.

 

Later when Regina’s showing Emma out, the sheriff stops at the front door and meets her gaze with a ferocity that the mayor hasn’t seen in a long time.

 

“Hey.” She says, the word coming out strong and harsh—nothing like the laughter and easy conversation that they had when Henry was around.

 

“Is something wrong?” Regina asks, an eyebrow cocked.

 

“No. It’s just...” Emma takes a deep breath, and Regina worries that someone has died. “I think I’m in love with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

 

“Excuse me?” Regina draws out her words, her voice one steady note so that there’s no way Emma can misunderstand. “What was that, Ms. Swan?”

 

When the sheriff says something stupid, her first-name-basis privileges are revoked.

 

Emma just stares at her, her lips glued together and her eyes wide like she can’t believe what she’s said.

 

 _Regina_ can’t believe what she’s said.

 

_“No it’s just…I think I’m in love with you.”_

“Did you mean to say that?” Regina asks, hesitant and confused because as she ;ays out the past few months in the back of her mind it makes _sense_.

 

“Sort of.” Emma barks, her voice without grace.

 

“Did you mean to say it to someone else?” Regina poses another question, thinking of Captain Hook. She doesn’t understand the appeal of the misogynistic manipulative pirate, but knows that he and Emma had been seeing each other at one point. As long as he stays away from Henry, Regina tells herself that it doesn’t matter who Emma Swan was kissing.

 

“No.” Emma shakes her head at that. Her face is red.

 

“Are you sure?” Regina asks.

 

“Yes.” Emma nods.

 

“Do you need to come back inside?” Regina asks after a brief hesitation, even though she didn’t want to prolong the conversation any longer than she had to. Despite herself, her heart is racing.

 

She thinks of Robin.

 

Emma brought his true love back, and Regina cried for days because she’d lost her last chance at happiness. Finally, a man who would smile at her and kiss her and love her, and he was gone.

 

It had been hard, and it had hurt. The turning point had been when she realized that the pain she felt because of Robin was nothing— _nothing—_ compared to what she’d felt after Daniel.

 

She confronted Tinkerbell about it, and the fairy eventually admitted that the thief had been more of a chance to love _again_ than a chance to love _for good_. She’d told Regina about the tattoo so that the queen could believe in love again, but that didn’t mean that Robin was her only chance at happily ever after.

 

She had cried that night—and her tears had been of relief.

 

Had she loved Robin? Yes—she’d opened her heart for the first time in a long time, and had it thrown back in her face as soon a Roland’s mother re-appeared from the sands of time.

 

Had she recovered? Of course. After learning how to hold her head high after Daniel, she could do anything. It got easier—it got better—the more that she thought about how Robin hadn’t _really_ been her true love.

 

Daniel had been her true love, and to be honest Regina wasn’t sure that she had another, if Henry didn’t count.

 

(Very rarely, in her most private moments after a bottle of wine, Regina would convince herself that Henry had Daniel’s eyes and her smile.)

 

“Did someone curse you? Dare you to do this?” Regina asks as they sit down in the living room.

 

Emma’s arms are crossed and she’s looking down at her feet. Regina feels more uncomfortable than she has since finding a google search for “boobs” on the computer when Henry was nine.

 

“No. I…I had to say something.” Emma mumbles, and Regina leans back and prays away a headache that’s surely on its way.

 

“Why do you think you’re in love with me?” Regina asks, and decides that this is the strangest conversation that she’s ever had. “I thought that you were in love with Killian.”

 

“No.” Emma’s response is immediate and too loud, and their gazes meet in the next instant. “ _Never_.”

 

“I heard that you kissed him.”

 

“I was trying to be something that I’m not.”

 

“And what was that? What were you pretending not to be?” Regina asks, her tone dry.

 

“Like I said—in love with you.” Emma is clearly struggling with her words. “I was trying to not be in love with you.”

 

“You’re not making any sense.”

 

“It’s not complicated! I mean—it is—it’s really, really complicated and it sucks and I hate it, but I had to say it! I had to. I can’t not…I can’t not say it any longer. I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re not in love with me.” Regina’s heart is beating much too fast, and her face is red, but it’s only because of how ridiculous their conversation is. “At the very least, Ms. Swan, I am _not_ in love with _you_.”

 

Regina sees something break behind Emma’s gaze, and unforeseeable guilt hits her like a tidal wave. She wants to ask—wants to know—how and when this happened. The savior in love with the evil queen? Not even this land’s bastardized version of Snow White could compare with such an idea.

 

“I…” It is with horror that Regina realizes Emma is choking back tears. “I know that.”

 

“If you knew, then why put me through this entire ordeal?” Regina asks. “If you think that you’re in love with me, then walk it off. Get over it.” It’s cruel, but she needs to stop this before it gets out of control. If it’s not already out of control. She knows that Emma is good at holding things in—so why confess at all?

 

“I had to tell you. And I thought…” Emma shrugs helplessly. “I can’t do brunch for the next two weeks—extra patrols—so I thought it would be a good time to tell you. I thought that if I told you…then maybe this would stop.”

 

“Well, you’ve told me.” It’s taken all of the time that they’ve known one another for Regina’s walls to come down at all, but in an instant they’re up again. “So get out.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Emma says as she rises, and Regina curls her hands into fists to stop from going to her. They’re friends, after all—and mothers to the same child. It’s only natural to want to help her after all this time. “I just want to get through this. Over this. Over…”

 

 _Over you_. They both know that’s what Emma _wants_ to say.

 

“I just had to know.” Emma draws a deep breath and turns to face the room’s exit, hands shoved into her pockets. “I had to ask.” As they reach the front door, Emma’s hand is on the doorknob and she half-heartedly kicks at the welcome mat. “I’ll be back in three weeks for brunch. We can just pretend I never said anything.”

 

“Fine.” Regina gives a small, shaky nod.

 

Emma pauses as she exits the house, and she looks Regina in the eye.

 

“We’re still friends, right?” She asks, and her voice is small and Regina feels terrible.

 

“Of course.” The mayor nods, the door closes, and a few minutes later she hears the death-trap drive away.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch. 3**

 

The clock reads 7:45 when Regina reaches over to give the alarm a slap.

 

It’s been three weeks to the day since Emma’s confession, and Regina hasn’t seen her even once. The night after Emma left her uncomfortable and guilty at her friend door, she hadn’t been able to sleep.

 

It felt as if she’d done something wrong by rejecting the savior, but what else should she have done? Regina didn’t love Emma—more than that, _couldn’t_. Regina wasn’t a lesbian. She had enough self-awareness to know _that_.

 

The blonde was probably just confused—Regina wished her the best in coming to her senses.

 

Still, the idea in her head. Regina woke up the next morning feeling too hot, with Emma’s name on her lips. No matter how long she stayed in the shower, she couldn’t scrub those dreams away—and the dreams kept coming.

 

No matter what she does, how busy she us, Regina can’t get Emma off her mind.

 

It’s 7:50 and the alarm is going off again.

 

Regina grumbles as an arm reaches over her to turn off the alarm for good, instead of just putting it to sleep for another five minutes. She knows that it’s time to get up and prepare brunch. After all, it’s finally time for Emma to return to her home after three weeks apart. Her stomach is in knots, because what she’s going to do to Emma is incredibly cruel.

 

Reluctant to get up just yet, she presses back against the body behind her.

 

“I thought you wanted to get up early.” Jefferson mumbles into the back of her neck, and Regina rolls her eyes.

 

“I do.” She rolls around and tucks her head under his chin.

 

A week after Emma’s confession, and Regina’s subsequent dreams, she decided that something had to be done. She had to cauterize the wound that Emma had somehow opened, and the easiest way to do that was to find a temporary fix for all of the love that Regina had lost.

 

Jefferson had been the obvious choice. He _knew_ her more than she’d ever admit, and since Regina’s return from Neverland they’d repaired their relationship over their children’s friendship.

 

It had been a far less awkward phone call than she’d anticipated, and for that she was grateful.

 

“Would you like to make another mistake with me?” She’d asked, because it had been the stupidest thing that she could think of to say. He’d laughed, and now they were sleeping together.

 

Henry didn’t know. Emma didn’t, either, but she was going to.

 

The sheriff was due to arrive at ten for brunch with Henry.

 

Jefferson was leaving at ten to go pick up Grace.

 

“Come on, your majesty. Let’s go.” Jefferson pulls back the blanket, and Regina lands a few harmless strikes to his chest as he leans over to turn on the light. She’s not in love with him, and doesn’t plan on ever loving him again, but sometimes being with him reminds her of how happy they were in their youth.

 

She likes those moments, and he does too, but they both know that this isn’t something that’s meant to last.

 

“Come on.” He pulls her out of bed and toward the bathroom, and she rolls her eyes and tells him to behave even as she’s pulled into the shower for a kiss.

 

They take too long, and by the time that they’re both dressed (Jefferson takes longer than she does to do his hair) and in the kitchen, it’s almost time for the sheriff to arrive.

 

“As soon as Emma gets here, you should go. It’s family brunch.” Regina says as she starts mixing eggs. “No wayward hatters allowed.”

 

“Fine.” Jefferson agrees, picking up an apple and taking a bite, juice running down his chin. “When should I come back?” He pauses and takes in the intensity with which Regina is whisking eggs. “…should I come back?”

 

“I’ll let you know.” Regina says crisply, and that seems to satisfy him. Jefferson sits down at the island to watch her, and she wracks her mind for something else to talk about. “My son is infatuated with your daughter.”

 

“I know.” Jefferson takes another bite of the apple.

 

“Aren’t you worried?” Regina asks. “Boy can be dangerous. Having been one yourself, I’m sure you know that.”

 

“If it was any other boy, I might be nervous.” Jefferson admitted. “…but he’s not. He’s _your_ son—and Emma’s, too. Between the two of you, I don’t think that he’d ever hurt a girl the way that fathers are supposed to be afraid of their daughters getting hurt.”

 

“Like you hurt me?” Regina asks, thinking about the stupid young man who had promised to whisk her away and then abandoned her for someone who could give him a family.

 

“Exactly.” Jefferson agreed. There’s a knock on the door, and they both pause. “…that’s my cue to leave, right?”

 

“Mm.” Regina steps away from the stove and wipes here hand. “Come along when you hear Henry go upstairs.” She approaches the front of the house and opens the door.

 

“Hi, mom!” Henry gives her a quick hug and races up the stairs to put away his backpack. Emma’s standing there looking surprisingly comfortable, and Regina prays that her foolish idea of love is long gone.

 

She hears Jefferson coming up behind her, and sees Emma’s brow furrow in confusion. Regina knows that Emma and Jefferson have worked out the hatter’s kidnapping of Snow and Emma.

 

It had all been August’s fault, and Jefferson was doing much better now. Two pills twice a day better. Still, there’s no real reason why the hatter would be at her home so early.

 

“Jefferson.” Emma says his name with uncertainty.

 

“Sheriff.” Jefferson nods. “I was just on my way out—enjoy your brunch.” He turns to Regina, kisses her on the cheek, and makes his way out the door and down the front steps.

 

The door closes behind Emma, and the savior stares at the mayor.

 

“What was…Jefferson doing here?” Emma asks, but they’re both adults and she _must_ know.

 

“Just catching up. We’re old friends.” Regina doesn’t say anything else about it, and turns towards the kitchen. “Henry!” She calls up the stairs. “Breakfast is almost ready—come down here!”

 

“Right. Old friends.” Emma shakes her head a little as if to clear it, and follows Regina to where breakfast is almost ready.

 

Soon enough they’re all sitting down together, and it’s like Emma never said anything and it hasn’t been almost a month since they’ve seen one another.

 

Regina is relieved, but there’s something else—she’s also sad. There’s no reason to be, and so she pushes past the feeling like she’s done so many times before. It’s good, what they have—loving their son and tolerating each other.

 

It’s good and it’s safe, and Regina would never do anything to change that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch. 4**

Brunches have come and gone, her apples have been harvested, and summer has turned to fall.

It’s only eleven in the morning, but they’re in a state of panic. Dinner is only five hours away, and Regina believes that they’ve made a horrible, unforgivable mistake.

 

 _Thanksgiving_.

 

At the time, Regina had thought that it would be a stroke of brilliance to host the holiday with Henry and Emma. It would give Henry a chance to bond with his mothers that wasn’t a Sunday morning, and Snow White and David wouldn’t have to worry about trying to feed the family in their apartment while taking care of Neal.

 

Besides that, Regina was _good_ at hosting events. Planning parties. It came with being a queen.

 

Emma, as it turned out, was not.

 

What had started out as a well-planned day of preparing for dinner (with much of the work having been completed the day before) had turned into a disaster because of something completely mundane: potatoes. They were one of the few things that Emma had been in charge of.

 

Regina had asked her to pick them up, but she hadn’t. Or, in a sense she had.

 

In a horrible, bastardized sense.

 

Instead of the organic red potatoes that Regina had asked for, Emma had showed up with three boxes of instant mashed potatoes. Regina had immediately told their son to go to the store and buy what she had actually asked for.

 

Henry had run out the door, eager to miss the storm that was brewing.

 

“I told you to get potatoes!”

 

“These _are_ potatoes!”

 

“Hardly!” Regina spat, slamming down one of the boxes onto the counter. “I’m trying to make a nice meal!”

 

“Yeah, _you_ are!”

 

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

 

“You said that this was something _we_ were going to do, but you’re steamrolling the whole thing!”

 

“I am not _steamrolling_!”

 

“What about when I asked to make pumpkin pie, huh?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course—you asked _me_ to pick pumpkin over apple!”

 

“That’s…I guess _that’s_ fair. But there’s nothing wrong with instant potatoes!”

 

“There’s plenty wrong with it!” Regina snapped.

 

“Really? Because yesterday you said that we were short on time, and mashing potatoes takes _forever_!”

 

“That’s why I gave you the job, you idiot!”

 

“Why? So that I’d be out of the way doing something stupid?”

 

“No! You’re the one with the—the—the _arms_!” Regina spits, and Emma’s brow furrows.

 

“Oh, I…I guess…” Emma flexes a little, and looks down at her arm even though she can’t really see it through the thick sweater she’s wearing.

 

“Cutting down apple trees and killing dragons being your new hobbies, I imagined that you would be able to make mashed potatoes the most efficiently out of the three of us.”

 

“…I guess.” Being complimented seems to have calmed Emma down, but she’s still not happy. “Why don’t you just use magic?”

 

“It’s no the same.” Regina passes off the idea quickly. “Henry’s buying the potatoes right now. Will you help or not?”

 

“I…fine.” Emma sighs and crosses her arms and leans back, scowling. “I guess we don’t have time to fight about it.”

 

“I agree.” Regina nods, and looks at the box of instant potatoes again. “Even the picture on the box looks like they taste terrible.”

 

“Well…they do.” Emma admitted, biting her lip.

 

“Then why buy them?” Regina asks, and she realizes that she’s opened a door she maybe shouldn’t have as soon as the question is out of her mouth.

 

“It’s just…growing up, this was all I ever got. With foster families, I mean.” Emma isn’t looking at her, and Regina suddenly feels very guilty.

 

“This family thing…” The savior continues. “I like it—you know I do, having Henry and my parents, and you, of course—but I don’t know how to do it. Making dinner with you…it’s scary.  It shouldn’t be, after everything that I’ve done, and I know it’s pathetic, but I don’t know how to do it. That’s the part I hate.”

 

“Emma.” Regina says her name gently, and the blonde glances up. Their eyes meet. “We can have the instant potatoes if you really want them.”

 

“I don’t.” Emma picks up all three boxes and drops them unceremoniously into the trash. “I never did—I was looking for a fight. I’m sorry.”

 

“So that you could storm out of the house and avoid Thanksgiving altogether?” Regina asks.

 

“Yeah. I mean—it’s a pretty shitty holiday, anyway. From what I remember, it’s just about screwing over Native Americans.”

 

“Now it’s about family.” Regina pauses, and walks over to the fridge, gripping the handle and flashing a rare, open smile to Emma. “And pumpkin pie.”

 

“Pumpkin?” Emma perks up and follows Regina to the fridge like a puppy. “I thought we were having apple.”

 

“Well, I did the baking last night.” Regina explains, reaching into the fridge and pulling out one of the four pies that she’s made for the holiday. “…and I decided that we might as well have both.”

 

“That’s…we should have thought about that in the first place. Before the pie fight.”

 

The pie fight had been two days ago. And then the stuffing fight. And now the potato fight.

 

But, from the way that Emma was smiling at her, it seemed like they were out of fights. For the moment, anyway—or at least for the holiday.

 

When they sit down to dinner with everyone (the Charmings, Ruby, Archie—there are at least twenty people in the house and it still seems strange to be included) everyone is smiling, and Regina catches Emma’s eye as she piles mashed potatoes onto the savior’s plate.

 

Later, when some people have left but the party is still going strong, Regina finds herself outside with Emma. It’s chilly, and they’re both wearing coats and gloves. Regina is looking at her apple trees, and thinking about doing some winter pruning before snow starts to fall.

 

“So…this was more fun than I thought it would be.” Emma offers.

 

“It could have gone much worse.” Regina agreed. “I can’t wait to see how Christmas goes.”

 

“We are _not_ hosting Christmas!” Emma says right away, and Regina laughs. “Oh…you were joking.” Her eyes widened. “You were joking!”

 

Regina bites her lip to stop from laughing too hard, and shivers because it really is getting too cold outside. She’s going to miss the fall, but at least things tend to quiet down in winter. Even the rowdiest of teenagers don’t feel like vandalism when there’s a foot of snow in the street.

 

“There’s one slice of pumpkin pie left—want to split it?” Emma asks.

 

“I don’t think I could eat another bite.” Regina admits, but changes her mind when she sees disappointment on the sheriff’s face. “But I might as well try.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch. 5.**

 

Regina isn’t used to having friends.

 

Her first friend had been Daniel. Before they had fallen in love, they had been children—the only children on her parents’ estate. There had been no one else to laugh with, because Cora had been too angry and her father too sad. They had created their own world in secret (her mother couldn’t know that they were even friends) and friendship had grown naturally into love, as those things tend to do.

 

That relationship had, as everyone now knew, been cut alarmingly short because of her mother. Love had been taken away from her before she could learn how to handle it. It had left her hands bleeding and raw as her mother forced it from her grip.

 

There had been no friends for a long time after that. Snow had tried to have a relationship with her, and maybe in another life the two girls could have been friends, but Regina had refused to play stepmother. There had been a few servants she’d thought cared for her, but they’d ended up being spies for either her mother or her husband.

 

Then there had been Jefferson. Oh, Jefferson! He’d been one of the biggest mistakes she’d ever made, but it had in the end turned out worse for the realm-hopper than for the queen, and she could forgive him to a point.

 

He’d given her a dashing smile that reminded her of Daniel, and he’d held her when Daniel was truly taken from her, and so she’d considered him a friend. He’d visited every now and then, and they’d grown comfortable in one another’s presence.

 

Then he kissed her. And she kissed him. And they kissed each other. And he abandoned her to make a family with a pretty girl he found in Wonderland, and that was that until she made him pay for hurting her.

 

In fewer words, their friendship hadn’t lasted. It hadn’t worked out.

 

Tinkerbell had tried to be her friend, but in Regina’s opinion, she’d tried too hard.  At the time new true love had, of course, seemed very exciting…but she had been a young woman who was very lost and very afraid in life.

 

Love had been a bit much to add to that list, how could either of them really have been surprised that Regina couldn’t bring herself to walk into the tavern and meet Robin? In the present, Regina supposes that neither of them are completely to blame for the disastrous results of their efforts.

 

They had both been young and full of optimism, which was a very dangerous state to be in. She should have learned with Daniel.

 

It was only after becoming the _Evil Queen_ that Regina had realized she had peers—other witches. The blind witch had been somewhat interesting, but Regina found her gingerbread house too sticky and her stomach turned at the idea of eating children.

 

Somewhere along the line, she’d found Maleficent. The other witch had been slightly older, much more experienced in her powers, and eager to see how much competition Regina could provide. They had delighted in exchanging stories and ideas, and for the first time in a long time Regina found herself laughing at someone not because they were pitiful, but because they were funny.

 

They had their problems as all friends do, though being witches those problems were slightly more deadlier than most. Things had honestly gone fairly well by Regina’s standards until all of that mess with the curse. Perhaps it had been too much to turn her into a dragon and let Emma slay her, but she’d lost her temper at the time.

 

Besides, she hadn’t wanted to hear about that damn miniature unicorn another minute longer. Honestly. _Pets_.

 

Maybe they’d never really been friends—maybe they’d just been passing the time in a world that was against the both of them. Well, Regina reflects now, it’s not against Maleficent anymore. She’s long gone.

 

Many thanks to Ms. Swan for that. Applause, too—why not?

 

Regina briefly considers including Rumpelstiltskin in her list of potential friends and ex-friends, but quickly laughs the thought away.

 

And then the curse.

 

And then Kathryn.

 

If only the curse had never been broken, she and Kathryn might have continued to be best friends. They could have gone to yoga together and bought the newest health foods and said terrible things about David and his _mistress_ …but instead, Emma had found success and Kathryn had seen Regina for who she really was.

 

Things were different now, and Regina knew that they would never been as close as they’d been, even if they’d only been close for a brief time. David’s ex-fiancé had at least stood up for her on a few occasions. That was more than she could have asked for, and she was truly grateful.

 

Truly, Regina reflects, in friendship she knows just as little as she knows about love.

 

That is one of the many things that makes Emma Swan such a puzzle to her. Friendship itself was hard enough a concept to grasp. Friends with the savior? Her, according to myth and prophecy, greatest enemy?

 

It had taken Regina years to admit that Emma was her friend.

 

The savior trying to throw love into the mix had created such a mess within Regina’s idea of what their relationship should be, that it took her another year after the sheriff’s confession to so much as face the possibility.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**Ch 6**

 

As she finishes running her bath and lets her clothes fall to the floor, Regina realizes something that is terrible. Absolutely terrible.

 

She might love Emma. Just a little bit.

 

It’s late in the evening, and Regina is sinking into a bath and taking long, controlled breaths.

 

She’s been trying all day to stop thinking of the savior, but she can’t. Something has happened, and she doesn’t want to think about it—instead, she thinks about what could be and what could have been.

 

Regina, after months of thought (because she is not one to rush to conclusions, especially not about love) has realized that she made a mistake in not giving Emma a chance. She should have at least tried to listen a little longer before practically kicking the sheriff out of her house.

 

Of all people, Regina should have known how hard it was to look someone in the eye and be honest. Emma was equally notorious for struggling with feelings, so why had Regina felt the need to shut her down so quickly? It hadn’t been fair.

 

It had just taken Regina awhile (a year) to figure that out. She’d needed time, needed peace and quiet after how eventful the rest of her life had been. It hadn’t been wrong to want time, but she should have said that explicitly instead of closing the door behind Emma and pretending that nothing had happened.

 

It’s been almost a year since Emma’s confession, she realizes, and the savior doesn’t look at her with _that_ kind of love in her eyes anymore. Not like she used to. At first, Regina had been relieved when she realized that she wasn’t picking up subtle signs of the savior’s more-than-just-friends-affection anymore, but now she isn’t so sure.

 

Maybe the other woman has just given up. Regina knows all too well what that’s like. How much it hurts.

 

Now, she and Emma are doing more than just Sunday brunch. They’re having  coffee, and Regina is bringing her lunch at the station. They’ve learned to understand one another’s jokes, and very few of their fights have real consequences.

 

It’s unsettling.

 

They aren’t supposed to get along like this. Regina isn’t supposed to actually crave Emma’s company.

 

The moment of truth came when Regina and Emma were dropping little Neal (it’s almost five, how did that happen?) of at Snow’s apartment. David insisted that they stay for dinner, and while they were eating, Snow had made a passing remark that hit Regina like lightning.

 

“I’m glad that you two have the time to babysit him—we’re so busy now that we’re both working again.” She paused, and smiled at her daughter and her (Regina shuddered at their complex family tree) step-mother. “If everyone in this town didn’t know better, I’m sure they’d think that you were his parents.”

 

Emma laughed, and Regina looked horrified.

 

They were good at being parents. Of course they were. They had Henry.

 

They were parents, but they weren’t _parents_.

 

Regina had never gotten to the point in a romantic relationship where things grew comfortable and the honeymoon phase came gradually to an end. With Daniel, things had to be hidden. That made them secret. That made them _exciting_.

 

With Robin, dating had been new and thrilling, and Regina had been learning the rules to a new game.

 

And Emma. What about Emma?

 

They had been through more together than Regina could ever have anticipated, mostly united through their mutual love of Henry. _Their son_. Friendship had been unsettling at first, and just when she’d started to get used to it, Emma had opened her mouth and declared her love for Regina.

 

Well, maybe that was a touch dramatic—Emma hadn’t exactly seemed excited about her feelings for the mayor. It had seemed more likely that she wanted to put them out into the universe so that they could vanish, and she and Regina could get back to building a friendship that would carry into the rest of their lives.

 

The confession had shaken Regina more than she’d admitted at the time, and her walls had gone up for a long time after it. Then, before she’d realized it, Emma was her best friend. They were hosting Thanksgiving together, going grocery shopping together, trading exasperated eye-rolls across rooms.

 

The best friend that Regina had ever had, besides her horses, had probably been Kathryn, and the curse breaking had distressed that friendship to the point where it would never be what it was. She’d almost repaired her relationship with Tink, but she was still closer to Emma than to the fairy.

 

Maybe magic had something to do with the queen and the savior’s newfound closeness. It was, after all, a very personal thing. The dark one had taught Regina magic, and that was a relationship that could never quite die now matter how much hate they both poured into it.

 

Regina had been Emma’s teacher. Mentor. Guide. Even if Emma’s magic was light magic (she’d said that Regina’s could be if she just believed, and Regina hadn’t spoken to her for a week) the ability to wield it properly had come from Regina.

 

There was something to be said for that.

 

Between their son and their magic, Regina reasoned that it was only naturally to love Emma a little bit. They were family. She even loved Snow a little bit, not that she’d ever admit it.

 

But does she _love_ Emma a little bit, too?

 

There’s was no way to answer that, is there?

 

In any case, she’s dwelling—filling her head with nonsense to keep from the _real_ probably at hand.

 

As Regina rinses shampoo from her hair and then sinks back into the water, she bites her lip and considers her morning.

 

There hadn’t been time to make coffee before leaving, so she’d gone to Granny’s to fill her thermos. Killian was there, nursing and Irish coffee and grumbling about all sorts of things. He was prone to that sort of thing. Complaining. As Regina had been preparing to leave, she got a phrase of his annoyed mutterings to Ruby, who was humming every now and then to show she was listening—or at least pretending to.

 

“I’m going to get her back.” He swore. “I need to.”

 

Regina’s nostrils had flared, and she’d had to fight fire back from her fingertips. The sudden surge of anger at Killian’s interest in Emma had been fighting and unexpected, and she took deep breaths in her care afterwards.

 

It was later, at lunch with the sheriff, that she realized why the pirate’s comments had infuriated her.

 

She was jealous.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Ch. 7**

 

Jealous because of the sheriff.

 

The idea leaves Regina in her car with her arms crossed over the steering wheel, her face hidden there as she takes a few deep breaths and criticized herself for letting the thought enter her head.

 

She isn’t _jealous_.

 

She just really, really, really, _really_ doesn’t like Killian Jones.

 

Very few people liked him, now that Regina things of it. He’d nearly killed Belle on multiple occasions, hurt Archie, worked for her mother, and allowed Regina herself to go through physical torture. Had he repented and apologized for much of his wrongdoing? Of course.

 

Just like…just like Regina.

 

Groaning, she bites her lip and furrows her brow, realizing that she can’t demonize another so-called villain who is trying to reform.

 

However, she reconciles, even if Killian is trying to be better, that doesn’t mean that she should be comfortable having him around her son. Yes! Of course! That was it!

 

She wasn’t jealous that he’d kissed Emma—that he wanted to be with her—she was protective of her son. No matter how much Killian improved his behavior and moral character, she would never stop being a mother who wanted to keep her child away from men like him.

 

Although…Jefferson has done some bad things as well, and Regina is comfortable allowing him to be her son’s supervisor for short periods of time, especially now that Henry and Grace are close.

 

Still…it couldn’t be jealousy. It just _couldn’t_ be. Regina and Emma are just friends. That ‘sit—and that was all it will ever be. On top of that they’ve been through far too much together to ever be more than friends (that was how it worked, right? Things were too complicated. It couldn’t happen.).

 

Most importantly at all, they are both women.

 

Regina is not a lesbian. She’s met lesbians—mostly in Storybrooke where there is better education about that sort of thing—and she is definitely not a lesbian. Neither is Emma, even if she’s heard some of the lesbians in Storybrooke refer to her as “soft butch”.

 

Regina isn’t sure that she knows what that means, and she doesn’t really want to know.

 

The bottom line is that it has been established on multiple occasions that they are both attracted to men. Daniel and Neal were been their true loves respectively, and both of them had been wonderful examples of societally accepted masculinity. Nothing queer there.

 

Still…Regina can’t help but think of what would happen if their story (their friendship—not their _story­—_ true loves had stories, friends just had memories) was a little bit different. If Snow had given birth to a son, and Emmett Swan had come into town on a motorcycle instead of August Booth, would they have fallen in love?

 

If their story was a fairytale, then of course they would have. Regina couldn’t say if that would have been better or worse, but the idea of it was so perfect and sugary-sweet that it made her feel like gagging.

 

Regina simply cannot be at all in love with Emma swan or jealous of Killian, because she is a heterosexual woman who is only interested in men.

 

It doesn’t matter if now and then she still has dreams about Emma that leave her sweaty and uncomfortable, and it does not matter that her eyes follow Emma into a room. That her eyes crinkle in a little smile whenever she catches the savior’s eye.

 

Regina shakes her head, and decides that there’s no reason to worry about Emma and Killian if they have no future. After making sure that there will be no one at her house that evening (Emma and Henry are eating with the Charmings, because they both know that Regina needs the house to herself every now and then to decompress) she fishes out her cellphone and dials Killian’s number.

 

At this point, she’s not in her car anymore. She’s been worrying about Emma all day, and it’s four in the afternoon by the time that she decides for good what she’s going to do.

 

It takes awhile for the pirate to pick up. He hasn’t quite gotten used to the technology of Storybrooke, and it apparently has been a struggle for Smee (of course the captain bullied his shipmate into being his guide) to explain things like television to the pirate.

 

“Hello?” He finally says once they have a secure connection. “This is Killian.” His voice is slurring slightly.

 

“I know.” Regina says briskly, forcing haughtiness and contempt into her voice so that the pirate knows exactly what he’s dealing with. “Are you drunk?”

 

“No, I’m a pirate.” His words are slow, but articulated well enough.

 

“You’re coming over for dinner.”

 

“Will Emma be there?” Killian asks immediately, and Regina resists the urge to vomit where she stands in her living room.

 

“No. It’ll just be us. Be here at five thirty.”

 

“Fine, I suppose.” The pirate sighs, and Regina grits her teeth.

 

She hangs up, and the day goes by. Before she knows it, someone is knocking at her door. The mayor stands back from the simple pasta and salad (with wine, of course) that she’s prepared, unties her apron, and goes to the door.

 

“I brought this.” Killian pushes a half empty bottle of something into her hands, which she immediately sets down next to the door so that she can take it out later with the trash. He doesn’t seem too drunk, but he’s definitely not happy.

 

That makes Regina smile.

 

“When was the last time you had a good home-cooked meal?” Regina asks sweetly as they sit down at the table. Killian doesn’t look good. His stubble makes him look homeless instead of dashing, and it’s clear that he hasn’t been sleeping well.

 

“I don’t know.” He admits, glancing away from Regina and frowning. “I expect you’ve invited me here to mock my failures in courting Ms. Swan?”

 

“I’m glad that we don’t have to waste time.” Regina admits, taking a few polite and preliminary bites of her food. It’s wonderful, of course. She made it. “You love her, don’t you?”

 

No response.

 

“Killian?”

 

The pirate drains his glass of wine, and then meets Regina’s gaze with coldness.

 

“Do you really want to know?” He asks.

 

“Of course I do. If you’re in love with Emma, it puts you close to my son—and that’s something that matters very much to me. I don’t want him around a drunk, dirty pirate.”

 

“I’ll let that last bit slide.” Killian is gripping the edge of the table with his hand, and he swallows hard before continuing. “I don’t want to tell you this, Regina—but I feel that I have to tell someone, and I’m just drunk enough to let that someone be you.”

 

“So say it.” Regina’s voice is cool, but she can’t deny that she’s curious.

 

“I’m not in love with Emma.” Killian says slowly, drawing out the words for emphasis. “I’m in love with someone else entirely, and I have been for some time.”


	8. Ch. 8

**Ch. 8**

 

Regina’s eyes widen, because Storybrooke now seems more like a soap opera than a fairytale. Maybe that’s not so bad.

 

“Dear god—it’s not me, is it?” She asks, because there’s no way that she has time for this.

 

“No—god…no.” Killian shakes his head and the room relaxes for a moment or two as they both laugh. “Alright. Who is it?”

 

“I’m not telling.” Killian takes a few huge bites of pasta and then crosses his arms and leans back. “It’s not for you to know.”

 

“But it’s not Emma?” Regina asks, just to be sure.

 

“No. I told you. It’s not Emma.”

 

“Then why are you getting drunk in the morning and moaning about how you have to get her back?” Regina asks. It’s a legitimate question. If Killian doesn’t love Emma, then why pine over her?

 

“Because,” Killian has started to eat again. Regina doesn’t stop him. If he’s at all drunk, and lately he’s always a little drunk, it’s probably best for him to have something in his stomach. That makes it less likely that he’ll throw up on her things later. “I don’t love her, but I need to.”

 

“You realize that you’re making less sense than Henry’s family tree, don’t you?” Regina asks, her patience drawing thin.

 

“It’s a complicated thing, and I don’t want to talk to you about it.” Killian says through gritted teeth.

 

“Then why did you agree to come to dinner?” Regina asks, starting in on her salad and taking a long drink of her own wine.

 

“I wanted a free meal, and I thought that maybe we might have sex.” Killian says honestly, and Regina nearly gags. “Either way, I win.”

 

“I’m not having sex with you.” Regina growls.

 

“That’s fine.” Killian shrugs and keeps eating. “Nice dinner, by the way.” He adds. “You’re a better cook than I thought. I guess that I can see what _he_ sees in you.”

 

“He?” Regina jumps on it, because it’s the only lead that she has for why Killian doesn’t love Emma, but _needs_ to love her. The whole thing really doesn’t make sense. “Who is _he_?”

 

“Jefferson.” Killian says, and tenses up immediately afterwards. He’s made a mistake in mentioning Regina’s ex-lover, but the mayor isn’t yet sure what the mistake is.

 

“So you know Jefferson?” She asks, backing off now that she knows she has a lead.

 

“We met once or twice before all of your curse business.” He admits, casually filling his wine glass. “Pirates and thieves have a lot in common. Lots of overlap.”

 

“I suppose.” Regina should have pieced this together a long time ago. Everyone in Storybrooke is either related, sleeping together, or old contacts with dramatic twists in their friendships. Besides, Killian and Jefferson have a lot in common. They’re both no-good criminals who treat women terribly. “It sounds like you’ve been talking to him lately. You must be, if you know anything about our relationship.”

 

“I don’t.” Killian replies coldly and suddenly. “That is to say, I don’t know much.”

 

“You know that we’re sleeping together?” Regina has decided to cut the bullshit, because the Evil Queen and Captain Hook might as well get to the point.

 

“Yes.” Killian looks uncomfortable, and she still can’t figure out why.

 

“I don’t see why that should bother you, if you’re not in love with me. I’m glad that you’re not, by the way.” She sips at her wine and stares at him, trying to figure this out. “But you may be interested in knowing we are no longer seeing one another.”

 

“Oh?” Killian feigns disinterest. “And why’s that?”

 

“We didn’t love one another, and our children are smitten.” Regina explains. “In short, it got weird.”

 

“I see. Well, that’s too bad.” He’s clearly lying. “You deserved one another.”

 

“Did we?” Regina’s wedged her foot in the door, and it’s not coming out now until she figures out why Killian wants to be in love with Emma and hates the idea of Regina being in love with Jefferson. “And why is that? I assume you’re implying that we’re both terrible?”

 

“Yes—wait. No. _No_.” Killian is struggling. “Look, Regina—I’m going to be honest with you. No one is going to believe the things that I say, so I might as well say them, because when I say them, they’ll be gone and then maybe they’ll disappear.”

 

This sounds exactly like Emma’s confession to Regina, and that has her confused more than anything.

 

“I’m not in love with Emma.” Killian’s speaking slowly again. “But I am in love with Jefferson.”

 

Regina drops her wine glass, and it shatters on the floor.

 


	9. Ch. 9

**Ch. 9**

 

The details of Killian’s feelings for Jefferson don’t matter to Regina. In fact, she never wants to hear about them ever again.

 

What matters is that if Captain Hook can be in love with the Mad Hatter, then it’s certainly plausible for the Evil Queen to be in love with the Savior, and that is absolutely terrifying. It’s all that she can think about, to the point where it’s difficult to sleep and seeing Emma is getting harder and harder.

 

It gets to the point where she can stand it no longer, and so when Henry goes to the movies with Grace, Regina invites Emma over for dinner. Jefferson is chaperoning the children, because maybe he’s not quite as comfortable with his daughter liking a boy as he told Regina months before.

 

He hasn’t said anything about Killian, and maybe that’s fine. Regina doesn’t even want them being friends, much less lovers. They’re too alike, and even one of them at a time is enough to give her a headache.

 

Killian and Jefferson are both off of her mind by the time that she and Emma are seated at dinner. She’s having trouble trying to bring up her feelings for Emma, and is considering letting them stay hidden away for all of eternity.

 

Regina draws a deep breath, and her tongue begins to trace words that refuse to leave her mouth.

 

“The lasagna tastes different this time.” Emma observes as she shovels food into her mouth, cutting off anything that Regina was trying to say.

 

“I actually tried a new recipe.” Regina admits. “Change doesn’t have to be bad.”

 

“Of course it doesn’t.” Emma agrees, taking a drink from her beer. Regina is drinking red wine, but has started stocking her fridge with microbrews for when Emma comes over for dinner. 

 

“But,” She raises her eyebrows. “I liked your _old_ lasagna.”

 

Regina’s stomach is full of knots and butterflies, and she takes another long drink of wine to hide the blush in her tan cheeks.

 

They continue to have dinner and small talk, and Regina works up her courage again and again only to have small talk move the conversation too far away from intimacy for Regina to bring it back. At least the food is good, even if Emma does prefer Regina’s traditional menu.

 

They’ve been talking for hours. That happens a lot lately. Dinner was at 6:30, but it’s 9:30 by the time that they run out of things to say and the sheriff decides that it’s time to go home.

 

It’s only when Emma is about to leave that Regina reaches out and grabs her arm, forcing her mouth open.

 

“Emma. I need to say something.”

 

“Good—you’ve looked emotionally constipated all night.” Emma laughs, and Regina scowls.

 

“Oh, stop that!” Regina snaps, and swallows hard. “It’s about…last year. When you said that you love me.”

 

Emma’s face goes white, and she starts to trip over her words.

 

“I’m sorry—did I do something? Look, I told you I’m sorry about that, I’m never gonna bring it up again.”

 

“No.” Regina draws a deep breath, and tries to will away the hurricane of nerves in her stomach. It  doesn’t work. “It’s just…I think that I’m in love with you, too.”

 

She waits with baited breath. Her heart is beating so loudly that she can feel it in every part of her, from her head to her toes. She knows that the end is coming. It has to be. At some point she realizes that it feels like she hasn’t taken a breath in years, but in reality it’s only been a few seconds and the look of shock on Emma’s face neither gives her hope or disappointment.

 

“Emma?” Regina says quietly, unable to mask the fear in her voice.

 

The sheriff doesn’t say anything, but she smiles and Regina is able to breathe again.


	10. Alternante Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went between two different sentences for the ending to this fic--here's the sad one!

The sheriff doesn’t say anything. Her brow furrows and she doesn’t smile. Regina exhales, and doubts that she will ever love again.


End file.
